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Whilst cruising the West London pubs category on Dooyoo, I found this boozer mentioned. Dooyoo's offices used to be in the Barley Mow centre in Chiswick which is, I guess, why this pub is in the otherwise scant list because this would have been their local. However, noone had written an opinion on it (shame on you!) so I have taken it upon myself to write an opinion on their behalf. I have had the pleasure of patronising the Barley Mow on several occasions and I am pleased to be able to patronise it again in thius opinion: it's a bit crap. Situated at the east end of Turnham Green you will find the Barley Mow pub. A huge warren of an establishment that may have, in its time been an old fashioned inn with stables. You can either enter through the gabled gate and up a concrete path or via the little known back entrance. Inside it is a mish mash of styles. Bright and garish with curious boyish bric-a-brac. There is a plenty of seating and when it is busy the place is packed to rafters which is why, presumably why it has a lot of standing room too. But now it's a bit rough round the edges. Hardly special and feels almost grimy. There always seem to be overflowing ashtrays and half drunk pints about the place and empty crisp packets. And despite being huge there is hardly any natural light which makes it rather gloomy or overly lit by artificial light. Whats it lacks, I suppose, is a genuine character. However, it does have some high points. It has a rather raucous rough and ready atmosphere and that can be a good thing when you want that. There are numerous machines, including on my last visit a Who Wants to be a Millionaire? trivia game. And there are also several pool tables that are in high demand with the youngish crowd. For lovers of Australian beers, it serves up bottles of VB and does hearty lunches and low prices. If you wanted to sum the place up, you would call it a good time pub. It is not about finess e or prissyness, it's about too many beers on a school night. It's about a bit of banter with the boys and a cheeky snog by the fruit machine. It's the kind of place you drop your fag ash on the floor without a thought or tip a pint over your mate's head for a laugh and noone really minds. And what's wrong with that?